


Doing All Right

by forthekidswhoaintgotnosoul



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: 70s era, Alcohol, Fluff, Gen, Sleepy Boys, Soft Boys, let them rest!!!, pure fluff, this is an os for now but i might make an actual fic out of it if ppl want tht??
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 06:22:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17177579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forthekidswhoaintgotnosoul/pseuds/forthekidswhoaintgotnosoul
Summary: Recording an album is exhausting and sometimes the band just needs a break





	Doing All Right

**Author's Note:**

> while rewatching days of our lives i rmmbrd reading somewhere (i think on tumblr) abt queen sleeping piled together on a sofa after a party @ sum point in the early days...... this is exactly what this is abt bc i lov my boys  
> edit: here is sth frm the queen wikipedia page on queen being allowed 2 use trident's recording equipment once the main business at the studios was finished 4 the day,, 2 set the mood - "Roger Taylor later described these early off-peak studio hours as "gold dust" and i think thts beautiful :') (and should hav been the title of this is id found this earlier)  
> edit #2: fixed some stuff :) tysm 4 reading!

Brian had been sitting on the couch for half an hour now, nursing his third glass of wine, squeezed between the maroon cushions and a very eager couple. The flat was buzzing with noise. He was a touch too drunk and it was pleasantly warm, probably due to the sheer amount of people cramped into the living room. 

Despite the rather obnoxious couple next to him, Brian was comfortable, or maybe he was just too out of it to be bothered by them or anything else. 

He was not sure how he had even ended up in the living room.

Maybe he should go and find his bandmates in the sea of drunk university students, but his body felt too heavy to actually get up. 

He was pretty sure that if he were to stay here any longer he would actually fall asleep and that would be kind of lame.  
Roger would absolutely draw dicks on his face with permanent marker when he found him, then take pictures and never let him hear the end of any of it. 

He really should get up and socialize, or at least look for his friends. Make sure none of them were passed out somewhere.

But Brian was so tired. 

It had been an exhausting few months.  
Recording an album was even harder than Brian had expected. 

It seemed the only time the band could all agree on something was when they were all unsatisfied with how a track had come out.  
Which meant rewriting, rerecording, remixing, basically doing everything all over again. 

All while they had to work on a tight schedule and at the oddest of times of the day. Often they spend all night in the studio - only for the rerecording to sound like shit anyway. Everything had to be exactly perfect with them, and each member had his own idea of perfect as well. It was a terrible ordeal, actually. 

They were all still in university too and while the band was slowly becoming a priority, as they actually felt like they were getting somewhere now, recording an actual album and all, Brian still very much wanted to finish his degree. 

So the last few months they had been recording at night, going to uni all day, studying and writing essays, working to get some money in because making music was ridiculously expensive - they barely had time to sleep, nevermind have a social life extending past the band. All the time they spend cramped in small studio spaces together combined with crankiness from lack of sleep and stress caused by university assignments lead to a lot of argueing in the band. Well, even more argueing than usual. 

This week it felt they had been fightning non-stop and the times the studio had offered were extremly inconvenient, pretty much exclusively between two and six o'clock in the morning.

Brian had slept so little the past few days that he had fallen asleep twice during the same lecture on Friday, something that had never happened before. 

To add to the pile, Queen had been booked for a gig on Saturday, that they still were in no position to turn down. They needed the money just as much as the exposure. It was truly amazing that they had gained a following by now, that they were actually getting gigs.  
However, it was hard to get excited for a show when you were running on two hours of sleep and too much coffee while your bandmates were all ready to slit throats. 

When the gig was over and the equipment back in the van, Roger insisted they all needed a break and then whined until they all agreed to whatever he wanted, knowing it was easier than having him mope over it for the following five days, further torpedoing the recording process. 

Brian had thought that by "taking a break" Roger meant they all should actually get a full night's sleep for once. 

Apparently that was a completly ridiculous and unheard of idea, because instead Roger dragged them to a party a guy from his advanced biology class was hosting that night, to "blow off some steam". 

Which was how Brian had ended up nodding off on a stranger's sofa, once all his friends had abandonded him for more interesting forms of entertainment. It didn't bother him much at the moment, he quite enjoyed getting a moment to himself.

Playing a show and then partying on the same night? That wasn't even easy for Brian on his good days. He wasn't like Roger and Freddie, whose favorite cure for a hangover was to drink some more. 

 

He really must have fallen asleep, because when he opened his eyes the next time the couple had seemingly vanished into thin air. More likely they had finally gone somewhere more private. 

Brian noticed it was a lot more quiet than it had been when he was last aware of his surroundings. The party had died down significally, only a handful of people left in the living room and likely some in other parts of the apartment. 

He must have been asleep longer than he thought, he really hoped there were no dicks drawn on his face. The clock he noticed above the door confirmed it. It was nearly three in the morning. 

 

Someone flopped down next to him on the arm rest of the sofa and suddenly a pair of skinny, silk-clad arms were being wrapped around Brian, a familiar perfume filled his nose and long black hair was obscuring his sight. 

"Hey, Freddie", he muttered sleepily into the hug, careful not to spill his wine (it was a miracle he hadn't dropped the glas while sleeping). 

"Hello, darling", Freddie climbed over the arm rest into Brian's lap and put his head on his shoulder. 

Despite already obviously being rather drunk, if the lack of grace with which he had plumped into Brian's lap was anything to go by, Freddie took the wine glass from Brian's hand and finished it off in a few quick sips. 

He leaned over to put it on the couch table and then nuzzled back into Brian.

" 'm tired", he muttered, voice just a bit hoarse from singing earlier. 

"Me too", Brian sighed, putting an arm around Freddie's waist to get at least a bit more comfortable "We should get going, don't you think?"

Freddie shook his head and made a sound a bit like a purr.

It seemed like he was planning to take a nap in Brian's lap.  
Brian wanted to protest - they really should get home, into their own beds, where they could rest properly - but he himself still felt too heavy to consider moving and he had to admit having Freddie in his lap like this was kind of nice. 

So, Brian resigned to his fate as a human arm chair and let his eyes fall shut again. 

He didn't manage to drift off however, before new, rather loud voices entered the living room.  
Freddie groaned in displeasure and Brian turned to look who had decided that the party was in fact not over yet.

It was, and Brian was not at all surpised, Roger, flanked by two girls. He was followed by a guy Brian didn't know by name but he was pretty sure he studied design at Ealing Art College with Freddie, and their very own bassist, John Deacon.  
Usually, John would have vanished by now, unseen until the next morning. Tonight he seemed to be enjoying himself terribly, however. He was pretty drunk and giddy. Beaming adorably as he talked with the others with previously unseen confidence.

The group came to sit with them, probably unaware that he and Freddie were having the opposite of a party.  
Deaky and Ealing-guy on the arm chairs across from Brian while Roger and his girls took the place the couple had been occupying.  
Five people was definetly too much for the old, creaky sofa.

Freddie had to quickly pull his knees to his chest to avoid his legs being crushed and to give the three some space. The way he shifted his weight put unpleasant pressure on Brian's thighs as his bony arse and stupid heels dug into them and he yelped. 

Roger and the girls laughed. Brian noticed hickeys on Roger's neck that hadn't been there a couple hours before. Yet judging by the lack of marks on either girl's skin, they most likely hadn't left those imprint. Roger must be on a roll.  
A cigarette was hanging between his kiss-swollen lips and he had brought a half-empty bottle vodka despite the fact that he most definetly shouldn't be drinking anymore. 

Well, Brian would likely have his own hangover to deal with tomorrow, Roger would have to manage on his own.

 

Honestly, Brian desperately wanted to sleep and since the newly arrived group was the only thing actually preventing him from getting much needed rest, he didn't feel particularly friendly towards them at the moment.  
Drinking had drained the last bit of energy he had had and he could not see himself moving for another twenty hours. 

How Roger and John were still so eager, talking and laughing and even still drinking while Brian already felt sick at the thought of more alcohol, he couldn't wrap his head around. 

Maybe it was that they were the younger members of the band. God, was he really getting old already? 

 

Someone had hunted down an acoustic guitar and Brian recognized Roger's playing without even opening his eyes. Not bad, but out of practice, a bit too jerky. He was probably the only one realizing this. To everyone else the guitar playing would sound just fine, especially in their state of intoxication.

The girls were humming along with a lot of enthusiasm despite very obviously not having the tiniest bit of musical ability.  
Freddie seemed to think the same because he huffed and straightened up, climbing back on the arm rest, as if to make sure they knew he was above them. The Queen. 

"Let's do this properly, darlings, shall we?", he chirped, sighting up straight and clearing his throat. 

Brian couldn't help but smile as he looked up to his friend. Despite the toll the last months had taken on all of them evident in his face, he was radiating again. Shining the way he always did once he was the centre of attention.

"Brian, you wanna play?", Roger offered him the guitar. He was relieved it wasn't one of his because he wasn't sure if he could have taken drunk kids fiddling away at his beloved instruments, even if it wasn't the Red Special.

He didn't want to play at all right now, but everyone looked at him, their expressions full of expectation, so Brian took the guitar, leaving Roger with his girls and his bottle of vodka of which he was taking a swig from just now. 

 

Brian played a few random chords, before starting with "Doing All Right", a song he had deemed calm enough for the time of the day, even if it was not originally written by Queen. 

Freddie sang softly as John and Roger hummed at stomped along, harmonizing perfectly despite their state of intoxication.  
For the moment it was just the four of them, not the girls, not the Ealing-guy. 

Just Queen, with their singer who was at least 30% a cat, a tired guitarist, a wasted drummer and a bassist who looked seconds away from getting on his feet and dancing. 

They had played three songs when the guy Brian recognized as the host came into the living room. Brian really wished he could remember his name, he felt rather impolite having forgotten it. 

Their host leaned against the doorway with his arms crossed "You guys are Queen, right?", he asked curiously.

"The one and only, darling", Freddie flashed him a smile.

Their host returned it "You're better than Roger said"

Freddie reached over Brian's head to hit their drummer.

Their host - his name was David, Brian finally found out seconds later, when Roger addressed him as such - sat down with them to listen to the spontanious jam-session and Brian continued playing. 

David was tapping his foot along to the beat, he seemed to actually be enjoying himself.  
The girls to Roger's side however were starting to look impatient. 

"I'm gonna go home", the brunette one on the left finally announed, "You coming, Rog?" Her voice was so sickly sweet and the nickname sounded so foreign coming from her Brian wanted to gag.  
To his delight Roger gave her along considering look.  
"Nah, I'm gonna stay with the band", he finally said, head swaying dangerously from side to side, cheeks flushed.

Someone should probably take the vodka from him before he got sick. 

The girl didn't look to pleased with that and left the room rather quickly, followed by her friend.

 

"You must be so fucking hammered if you let such hot chicks go", David joked.

Brian somehow couldn't shake the feeling that Roger was looking at him as he muttered "Yeah, I guess" 

Ealing-guy wistfully looked at the door.

"Hmm, I'm going to see if I can maybe comfort those poor girls", he mumbled and hurried to follow them. 

Brian couldn't help rolling his eyes. What a fucking tool.

 

Finally coming crashing down from his post-show high, that had simply been stretched out by the amount of booze he had consumed, Roger curled up into a ball next to him.

"I definetly had too much", he groaned and put the vodka bottle to his lips again. 

"Don't puke on my couch!", David warned him.

Brian looked at his best friend with concern and finally pried the bottle from his hand. With Roger so close to him, he couldn't really play anymore so he leaned forward and carefully placed the guitar on the couch table, before quickly settling back down to continue his very important task of being Roger's pillow.

A crash from another room caused David to abandon his seat moments later to check what precious possession had been destroyed. The room went quiet.

Freddie yawned. He slid down from his hightened position on the arm rest, back into Brian's lap.  
Freddie in his lap and Roger pressed up against his side, Brian was basically being buried under their combined weight, but he didn't really feel like complaining.

"Deakyyy", Freddie whined, making grabby hands "Come over here, darling"

He didn't have to ask twice.  
With a grin John came over from his arm chair and flopped on the couch next to Roger, curling himself around him.  
He made an adorable, content sound and closed his eyes. Freddie cooed.

 

"You gonna be sick, Rog?", Brian asked one last time, just to make sure. 

"Nah", Roger mumbled, eyes already falling shut.

"Good", Brian sighed and leaned back into the cushions.

They were definetly all going to be sore and hungover tomorrow, but, god, they needed some rest.

**Author's Note:**

> hmu on tumblr @70srog


End file.
